


Shed Your Armor

by Sulwen



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Glam Rock RPF
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Dom/sub, Flogging, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-03
Updated: 2010-11-03
Packaged: 2017-10-13 01:11:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/131145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sulwen/pseuds/Sulwen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for this prompt: "Flogging. And I mean hardcore, leaves bruises, maybe even breaks skin flogging. And of course, plenty of loving after care."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shed Your Armor

It's taken a lot of effort to set this up. Not only do they have to have proper equipment and complete privacy, but every person they deal with along the way has to be kept in the dark. If this got out...well, it's enough to be pushing the country's boundaries regarding one sexual taboo. This would be too far, too much too soon, and all wrong anyway – it's just too private.

***

They kind of edge their way into this arrangement without ever really talking about it. Tommy's life has been absolutely crazy lately, moreso than anyone could reasonably bear. And of course Adam notices. He watches as Tommy recedes into himself, hiding behind his hair, under hoods, beneath baggy clothes. He sits across from Tommy in restaurant after restaurant, watching him push food around on his plate apathetically, the lines and angles of his face seeming to grow sharper every day. And he tries to help, tries to talk and comfort and just be there for his friend.

Nothing works. In fact, things actually start to get worse – Tommy seems to be lost in a haze, and Adam can hardly even get him to talk. The only time Tommy seems to be his usual self is on stage, performing. Adam doesn't get to watch him the whole show, of course, but there are a few moments throughout when his attention is fully focused on Tommy instead of the audience or the sound mix or which lyric he's just flubbed. He studies Tommy's body language, staring at his face as he twists a hand in Tommy's hair and pulls. Tommy's eyes shut, as they usually do when Adam's hands are on him, and the tension in his face eases, and he actually sinks an inch or two, as if he's gone weak in the knees. And for a few moments after that, when Adam glances over to meet Tommy's gaze, his eyes look bright and alive again.

The fog settles over Tommy as soon as they get backstage. Adam watches as he hunches down and slinks into a corner, apparently waiting for the rest of them to leave. He looks around and catches Monte looking back at him, concern written all over his face. Adam just shakes his head and waves Monte on, confident that if anyone can handle this situation, it's him and him alone. He's not sure quite why he feels so, but Adam is a creature of instinct, of intuition, and right now it's telling him not to let anyone else too close.

Once they're alone, the rest of the troupe changing and showering and making plans for later, Adam steels himself and advances on Tommy, getting right up in his face and pressing him back into the corner. Tommy's eyes shoot wide and his mouth falls open. It's the most expressive he's been in days – maybe weeks – and it spurs Adam on. He gets a hand in Tommy's hair again and _wrenches_ it down and to the side, harder than he's ever done on stage. Tommy makes a tiny, broken little noise, and it has to hurt, but he's not fighting. Instead, he goes a bit limp, and his eyes close, and he releases all the air in his lungs in one long breath.

Tommy feels like putty in his hands, soft and malleable, and Adam is relieved just to be getting a response rather than the stone-faced look he's been faced with all the time lately. He slides his other hand up to Tommy's neck, applying gentle pressure with just his fingertips. Tommy's breath quickens, and Adam can feel his heart begin to pound hard under his hand, blood rushing through the veins he's restricting. He nods inwardly, settled in his conclusion. All right then. It's not his usual scene, for sure. But Adam's biggest kink, the one that's defined him in every relationship he's ever been in, is how much he loves to make other people happy. And if this is what's going to bring the smile back to Tommy's face and the light back to his eyes, he's more than willing to do it.

***

The room they've acquired is almost empty, windowless and full of hard surfaces. There's a cabinet in one corner, and a few hooks here and there on the walls, and a door that leads into an adjoining hotel suite – one much like everywhere else they've stayed on this tour. When Adam walks in, he doesn't see Tommy immediately, and has a moment of panic. But as his eyes adjust to the dim light, he spies Tommy sitting on the floor, huddled as seems to be his habit lately into a corner. His knees are drawn up to his chest, and his arms are wrapped tightly around them. He's all in black, with a hood pulled up so far that Adam can't even see his face. He looks tiny, fragile, almost not there at all.

Adam takes a moment to collect himself. He's ready for this – more than ready. There are a few scattered experiences in his distant past that he can draw from, and he's even taken the liberty of calling some of those old contacts, discreetly asking for advice. More than anything, though, he's confident in his actions, absolutely sure that this is the right thing. This is exactly what Tommy needs, and Adam is going to be the one to give it to him.

The thought of someone else performing this task appears fleetingly in his mind, leaving a trail of possessiveness and heated blood in its wake, and Adam takes that feeling and rides it, lets it carry him over to where Tommy is hiding. He stands above Tommy, plants his boots on either side of Tommy's knees and _looms,_ making them both vividly aware of the sheer size difference between them. Reaching down, he flicks Tommy's hood back and grabs at his chin, forcing him to look up. Tommy's eyes look faded out, half-dead, and it breaks Adam's heart, but he shoves the emotion away, instead reaching deep to grasp at the anger and frustration he's felt the past few weeks, the sense of rejection at Tommy closing him out of his life.

He doesn't speak, just takes the neck of Tommy's hoodie in one fist and drags him to his feet. Quickly, gracelessly, he strips Tommy of his clothes, of all that black he's swathed in, and Tommy just stands there and lets him, only moving when Adam prompts him. When he's finished, he comes back to Tommy's face, takes him by the throat, searches Tommy's eyes for any hint of fear, of defiance - but there's no reaction, nothing.

Adam throws Tommy to the floor, as if he's disgusted, and if he's honest with himself, maybe he really does feel it a bit. He's always struggled with character bleed, and tonight he's playing a character just as surely as if they were on stage. He goes with it, lets himself feel, confident enough in his positive feelings for Tommy to have faith his character's negative ones won't overwhelm him. His eyes narrow, and a snarl twists itself onto his lips, and he feels an arrogant tilt enter his stride as he goes to the corner cabinet, opening it and pulling out just a few key items.

The soft leather straps are designed to slide over the hand and rest at the wrist, with a hook at the end to attach to the rings in the walls. They're not for confinement, but to give something to pull against, to grip. Adam has no desire to chain Tommy up or tie him down. If he's sensing things right, there's no need. He takes them in one hand, enjoying the slide of leather along his skin as he always has. In the other, he grabs the handle of a dark leather flogger.

He's no expert. A friend, one of those characters from his own ancient history, chose this one for him after he described exactly what he wanted it to do. The grip is solid in his fist, and he lets the long tendrils drape over his arm, feeling their deceptively gentle touch. He gives it an experimental swing, and it feels good in his hand, well-balanced, powerful. Then he tucks it into his belt and closes the cabinet doors.

Tommy is sprawled on the floor, exactly where he'd landed when Adam threw him. Adam saunters over and crouches next to him, making sure Tommy can see the flogger tucked at his side like a firearm, all deadly potential. He reaches out and loops the straps over Tommy's wrists, and they're loose – Tommy's lost more weight than Adam had realized. But as they settle into place and Adam gives them a tug, Tommy does exactly what Adam's been hoping he would – twists his wrists and grips the straps tightly with his fingers. Inwardly, Adam is grinning, ecstatic at the response, but he keeps the look on his face harsh, cold.

He pulls, as if he has Tommy on a leash, and Tommy follows, stumbling to his feet and letting Adam lead him to the wall. Adam hesitates just a moment – he knows there are rings just right for Tommy's height somewhere, because he made them measure three times – but then he finds the spot, and hooks the ends of the straps into the rings, Tommy's arms stretched out above his head and his body facing the wall.

Adam presses up against Tommy's naked body, pulling at his hair, forcing him to bare his throat, and he has the sudden urge to bite, to mark Tommy with his own teeth. But if he starts down that path, he might not stop, and it's not the time nor the place. Instead, he steps back, letting cool air rush into the space between their bodies, and he takes the flogger into his right hand and grips it tight.

Tommy is squirming in place against the wall, tiny little anticipatory movements. He knows what's coming, but not where, and not when. Adam watches, transfixed by the smallest things – the curved arch of a foot, the tiny girlish waist, the jutting of shoulder blades. Tommy is pale, and his skin is perfect, unmarred in any way, the kind of skin most people would kill for and spend a fortune trying to achieve. Adam has never been much for the visual arts, but it occurs to him that the expanse of Tommy's back looks like a blank canvas, and he is the painter. It's a strangely beautiful thought, one he'd like to explore further. Later.

The first swing is off, barely glancing off Tommy's side. Adam adjusts his stance and tries again, and this time, the strands of the flogger hit squarely on Tommy's back. Adam can feel the contact all the way up his arm and into his shoulder, and Tommy lets out a tiny broken cry, his back arching away from the sting. And something inside Adam sits up and pays attention, some deep, hidden part of himself that's suddenly very interested in the proceedings. It's a bit frightening, and Adam doesn't quite want to examine it too closely, but his instinct is to let it in, let it take the reigns.

And when he swings again, leather tips leaving bright red marks across pale flesh, he feels a spark of excitement, of arousal. His focus is still very much on Tommy, on giving him what he needs, on rousing him from the deep, dark place he's sunken into. But with every swing, Adam enjoys it a little more, drinks in the strangled cries as they pour from Tommy's lips, devours the twisting, arching shape of Tommy's body with his eyes.

Tommy's back is painted with crisscrossing bright-red stripes by the time he starts to resist. He makes no move to free himself, but he turns his head to look at Adam over one shoulder, and the glare in his eyes is electric. Adam has a feeling that if the situation were a bit different, he'd be about to get punched in the face. He meets Tommy's stare head-on, supremely confident, wholly in control. This is good. This means they're making progress...but they're not there yet.

Not breaking eye contact, Adam redoubles his efforts, and swings again with the full force of his body behind the blow. A loud crack pierces the air, and Tommy's scream is only a split-second behind – and a scream it is, a full-throated vocal-cord-shredding scream, head thrown back. Adam thinks it's the loudest noise he's ever heard Tommy make, and it goes straight to the core of him, ripping into his soul. That scream sounds again and again as he speeds his swings, and he's caught up in the rhythm of it now, the motion and energy and Tommy, white-knuckled and so tense he might shatter any second, and Adam doesn't even slow when vivid lines of dark red begin to cut across Tommy's skin, broken places in the skin where blood begins to trickle through, and Tommy is sobbing and begging, babbling an endless string of nonsense that Adam hardly registers anyway.

Finally, finally, as Adam's arm is starting to ache with exertion and Tommy's blood is beginning to drip in slow drops onto the floor, Tommy goes completely limp. Adam stops himself mid-swing and forces his eyes to focus, assessing. Tommy is barely even standing, hanging from the straps around his wrists. His head is lolling to one side, resting on his shoulder, and there in no sign of tension left in him, every muscle loose. Adam drops the flogger and rushes to Tommy's side, taking his face gently in one hand and turning him to meet Adam's concerned gaze. His eyes blink open slowly, and Adam almost gasps at what he sees in them. Tommy's still not back to his normal headspace, clearly – his eyes are glazed over, and he can hardly focus. But it's different, worlds away from what it was. Instead of being lost and far away, Tommy seems closer than he's ever been, all wrapped up in the moment and Adam and what they've just gone through together. And that's all Adam needs to see.

He gets an arm around Tommy, holding him across the chest so as to avoid pressure on his ruined back, and reaches up to loose his wrists from the straps. Tommy collapses against him, unable to hold himself upright, and Adam scoops him up into his arms. Tommy whimpers, his body folding into a new position causing new pain, and this time, Adam lets his heart break. He carries Tommy out of the bare room and through the door into the lush bedroom adjoining and lays him out face-down on the bed. He's as careful as he can be, but Tommy's still crying new tears by the time Adam gets him settled.

There's a full first aid kit set out and ready, and Adam is glad for it. He hadn't thought they'd need it, hadn't dreamed things would get anywhere close to that point, but he's Adam, and he prepares for every possible outcome. So he has all he needs to clean Tommy's back and pat it dry. The cuts themselves aren't as bad as they'd looked, thin and shallow, and by the times he's finished they've nearly stopped bleeding on their own.

Tommy hisses when Adam touches a sensitive spot, but lies still, compliant, letting Adam get on with what needs to be done. When Adam finishes, he shoves all the supplies away and comes to lay on the bed next to Tommy, his head on the pillow facing Tommy's splotchy and tear-stained face. They just lay in silence, looking at each other for a while, and slowly, slowly, Adam begins to come down from his high as Tommy starts to come up. They meet somewhere in the middle, somewhere approaching normality, though that term doesn't seem to mean the same thing as it did before tonight.

Adam speaks first, his voice soft, hardly more than a whisper. "Are you ok?" he asks.

Tommy tries to answer, fails, his voice completely gone. Adam's eyes widen, and he rolls over to reach to the nightstand and the bottle of water sitting on it. He helps Tommy drink, being as careful as he can, though it still drips down onto the bed despite his best efforts. Tommy swallows and tries again. "Yeah...I'm good. Real good. Are _you_ ok? You look freaked out."

Adam opens his mouth to answer, then closes it again. He looks into Tommy's eyes, clearer and brighter every moment, and then down at the mess that's been made of his back. He closes his eyes and rides out a dizzying wave of emotions he can't quite define. Then he meets Tommy's eyes again. "I don't know. I've never done anything...never felt anything like that before."

Tommy goes to move, but soon thinks better of it and keeps still. "Come here," he says, and Adam scoots a bit closer. Tommy leans his head forward just slightly, just enough to bring their foreheads together, and Adam closes his eyes. Everything is so intense right now, but Tommy's right there with him, and the comforting presence of skin on skin calms him, backs him away from the panic that's been rising ever since he came to his senses and realized what he'd done.

And then Tommy whispers to him. His voice grates over the words, but it doesn't take away from the genuine emotion there, the bare honesty. "Thank you."

Adam opens his eyes and sees a little smile on Tommy's face, one of those rare and precious little expressions that always makes his heart skip a beat. He hasn't seen a look like that on Tommy's face in what feels like ages, and this one, this beautiful little curve of the lips, right there in front of his face...it makes his chest ache and his heart yearn and his soul cry out.

Slowly, so slowly, Adam closes the last inch between them, lips gently brushing, meeting in the smallest of kisses. It's the first time they've kissed off stage, and it _feels_ like a first kiss, and when Adam pulls away, he's smiling too.

They drift off just like that, smiling small, secret smiles at each other.

They wake to a whole new world.


End file.
